


Holyhead

by sideraclara (angeloscastiel)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/F, Pre-Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloscastiel/pseuds/sideraclara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in 1969, when the threat of Voldemort is still in the dark and distant future, a social revolution is brewing in a nondescript bar known as the Holyhead.</p>
<p>a story of reform, Quidditch, and pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holyhead

There was a note pinned to the inside of Jenny Kirkpatrick’s door.  
  
This wasn’t unusual in itself – the girls had perfected their systems of communication without raising the suspicion of the matron, and notes charmed to the inside of doors were par for the course – but it was the content of the note that confused her. Not the usual imparting of gossip or requests to cover for Val or Judy when they slipped out after curfew, just a single, pressed flower and an address off Knockturn Alley (Knockturn Alley, of all places!) on printed stationery.  
  
Checking to make sure the door was locked behind her, Jenny peered at the stationery. _HOLYHEAD_ was printed in small red letters in the bottom right hand corner. FOR _SAPPHIC WOMEN,_ read the tagline.  
  
She stared at the note so long she barely heard the dinner bell, and had to hurriedly stash it into her nightstand when Val knocked. “Jenny? Are you coming to dinner?”  
  
“Just a minute,” she called back, smoothing her hair and checking in the mirror for any visible signs of distress. Finding none, she opened the door and hurried downstairs.  
  
“Did you get my note?” Val asked when she slipped into her usual seat at the dinner table.  
  
“What note?”  
  
“I’m nipping out to see Allan,” Val whispered, “And I need your help getting my wand out of lockup after curfew.”  
  
“I’m going out tonight too,” Jenny said, barely even aware of making the decision. “Ask Judy.”  
  
“Matron’s been watching Judy like a hawk since that incident last week. Where are you off to tonight anyway?” Val continued. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally found a man.”  
  
“Something like that,” Jenny said noncommittally. She was still single at nearly twenty-four, and comments about her spinsterhood were almost daily now. She didn’t mind too much, because it was still preferable than anyone at Chilton’s finding out she preferred the company of other women.  
  
She’d been at Chilton’s Home for Young Ladies for six years now, moving in the moment she left Hogwarts like all the other girls – Muggleborn daughters of working class Protestants who had been thrown out of home for witchcraft – and while most of them got married and left within a few years, Jenny had been stuck. She didn’t have the money to buy her own place, and landlords didn’t like renting to young single women because they were “flighty” and “invited scandal” and “couldn’t manage their finances”. Her other option – and one that Matron had been pushing her towards since she turned twenty-three – was to become a teacher and live at Hogwarts. That prospect held little appeal, but it was better than staying at Chilton’s well into her twenties while the other girls got progressively younger. Everyone who had been at Chilton’s when Jenny first arrived was gone – Val was the second oldest and she was only twenty-one.  
  
Val was also about to ask her for the details about her mystery man, so she made her excuses and retreated back to her room. She took the note from the nightstand, read the address over and over until it was firmly imprinted in her mind, folded it carefully, and tucked it into her skirt pocket. Then, she Disapparated.  
  
She arrived in a dark, dingy alleyway that reeked of booze and clanged with empty bottles. Holding her wand ready, she stepped over to a nondescript red door set into the wall. As she came closer, the word HOLYHEAD appeared on the chipped paint.   
  
A _real_ Fidelius Charm. She knocked, and a witch with short cropped hair answered, looking her up and down. “You sure you’ve got the right place, love?”  
  
Behind her Jenny could see dozens of women, silhouetted against the hazy, smoky light within – women talking to each other, holding hands, touching, some even kissing in the darkened corners. “Yes, I’m sure.”  
  
“Well then,” the witch said, stepping aside and beaming, “My name’s Ray. Welcome to the Holyhead.”


End file.
